“A principle ceases to be one when it is carried out,” said Anna.
“Then you don't think you are going to die because you are folding that ribbon, honey?”
Anna took up some yellow ribbon. “There is much more need to worry about Charlotte,” said she, in the slightly bitter, sarcastic tone which had grown upon her lately.
Mrs. Carroll looked at Charlotte, who had removed her hat and was pinning up her hair at a little glass in a Florentine frame which hung between the windows. The girl's face, reflected in the glass, flushed softly, and was seen like a blushing picture in the fanciful frame, although she did not turn her head, and made no rejoinder to her aunt's remark.
“What has Charlotte been doing?” asked Mrs. Carroll.
“She has been doing the last thing which any Carroll in his or her senses is ever supposed to do,” replied Anna, in the same tone, as she folded her yellow ribbon.
“What do you mean, Anna, dear?”
“She has been paying a bill before the credit was exhausted. That is sheer insanity in a Carroll. If there is anything in the old Scotch superstition, she is fey, if ever anybody was.”
“What bill?” asked Mrs. Carroll.
“Mr. Anderson's,” replied Charlotte, faintly, still without turning from the glass which reflected her charming pink face in its gilt, scrolled frame.